The Tale of Odo the Hero
by Emperor Omega
Summary: A great hero in wizarding Britain, Odo was forced by circumstances to become who he was. In the face of armies and unbeatable foes, Odo gained his name. This is his story; his situation; the world as he knew it. Read his tale, for it is one worthy of retelling.


**Disclaimer: Evidently, I do not own Harry Potter, otherwise this story would not be called _Fan_Fiction. All I own is the plot and the OCs.**

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

With a sound like a _crack_, a man appeared in the distance, his cloaking swishing around him before coming to a rest. His hand rested upon the pommel of a longsword at his hip and a thin and black, foot-long stick was clutched in the other hand. The man was silent for some minutes while the leaves his sudden appearance had disturbed settled. He slipped the stick in a pocket under his plate breastplate and strode out from under the trees.

Behind him was the end of a dense forest. In the night, not much could be seen from its depths, but the trees were full of leaves, from which not a single one stirred. The night was silent and still, and nothing except for the man moved.

Out from under the trees, the man walked with a purpose in his step that was seldom matched. Bathed in the moonlight, his armor gleamed silver like the stars above. His hair was long, almost to his shoulders and a light brown. The beard on his chin was short and ended with a curl, and his moustache was trimmed closely.

Perhaps, if the man had been moving a bit slower, his cloak would have trailed on the ground behind him, but this was not to be. The man strode still, taking little notice of his surroundings. He passed over a small bridge spanning a narrow stream, entering the shadow of trees once again. Although less closely packed together beyond the thick of the forest, the trees never gave way.

The man was swallowed by firelight as he approached a village. The light shone from the torches that two fairly heavily armored guards carried. As he neared them, one of the guards held out his hand.

"Halt!" he said. "State your name and business."

The man smiled slightly. "I am Archmage Emeric. Surely you were informed of my imminent arrival? You village stands in the way in case of a Spanish magical invasion. I have come to aid you in its defence."

"You are Lord Emeric Amal?"

Emeric inclined his head. "The very same."

"Greetings My Lord!" the guard said hastily. "I hope you can pardon my impertinence. I knew you not. I hope I find you in good condition."

"As well as can be expected, I should say, given the circumstances. Have you had much contact with magi?"

"Well, Lord, there is one in the village, his name is Jon," the guard said.

"I wish to see him," Emeric demanded.

"Brandon can show you." He gestured to the other guard, Brandon.

"You'll be staying here?" Brandon said.

The other guard nodded. "Do not worry, I shall be vigilant."

"This way, sir," said Brandon.

Brandon led Emeric through the small shacks over the cobbled floor. The village had been cleared of trees except for a few, so Emeric could see the whole village. Close to the northern side, almost under the surrounding forest's trees, was a two-storey inn. The windows of the inn's common room were lit, though they were too far away to catch any sounds. A few of the building were obviously shops, having their counters and windows in the wall, but these were also closed. Evidently, everyone was either asleep or at the inn.

Brandon led Emeric to the center of the village, where there was a well. Next to the well sat a young man in dark blue robes, scribbling frantically on sheets of parchment spread out before him. A worn dagger lay at his side.

"Boy," Brandon said. "Lord Amal wishes to speak with you."

Jon looked up from his work. The moment his young, inexperienced eyes met Emeric's, visible relief passed over his features. He stumbled unstably to his feet, brushing the dirt off his robes.

"Professor Archmage!" he said.

Emeric nodded at him. "Well met. Jon, is it?"

The young man, who looked much younger even than twenty, nodded eagerly. "Aye, sir. Sir, the Spanish Legion of Warlocks have left the Spanish cost. They're going to come from the south, sir. This village is in the way. There are finites in this village, my Lord Archmage, and they do not—"

"Easy there, child," Emeric said, smiling. "Take a deep breath and collect your thoughts."

The boy inhaled deeply, then delved into his tale again.

"I know, I know, that is why I am here," Emeric said, interrupting again.

"Oh! Do you have a plan? What are we to do? There is no mage in this village aside from myself. Oh, well, there are two now, I suppose, now that you are here. Oh!" His eyes lit up again, as if he had suddenly though of something so ingenious that could not be ignored. "Are you going to set up a defense? Can I help you? Please, I wish to be of use! I know some spells. Nothing overly fancy, my da died before I was old enough to understand, see. But I can learn!"

Emeric frowned. He turned to the guard again. "Leave us. I shall contact you shortly."

Brandon bowed deeply and hurried away.

"What," said Emeric, "have you been writing?"

Jon turned to his parchments and gathered all his writing in his hands. He hurried over to Emeric and handed him the parchments. Emeric looks at each page briefly, his eyes running over the variety of maps and spells.

As he went through the parchments, his eyes caught a particularly long list of names, including nobles, magi and finite. At the top of the list he saw the name of the King of England himself.

"What is this?" said Emeric.

"Lord Archmage, 'tis a list of people I thought I can contact. These people are those in positions of military power—" He pointed to the king's name. "—or great magical power." He pointed to the name _Archmage Baruffio_. Above Baruffio Emeric saw his own name.

"I was thinking," said Jon, "that if I can contact these people, they can help us make a stand against the Legion."

Emeric let out a bark of laughter. "You think the _King of England_ will lend his troops to a puny little village like yours? He known about the upcoming attack and he knows the legion are some of the most powerful wizards of our time. They are led by a ruthless and vicious Archmage who is so powerful that he is known as _el Invicto_, the undefeated. He is one of the greatest heroes among the Spanish and his fame is well-known throughout Europe. The king needs to defend greater cities where they are sure to strike. They are sure to attack your village too but the deaths of all of you are hardly a dent on the kingdom."

Jon flushed.

"Do not worry," said Emeric. "I do not intend to let that happen. I went to the king's court, but they would not listen to what I said. The king and his court wizard think to meet the Legion head on." Emeric's expression hardened. "That will destroy them."

"But you have a plan, don't you?" said Jon, almost frozen.

"I have an idea, yes. I will need your help, but we need to train you up a bit." Emeric turned away from him, studying the village closely. "You want to learn, but there is not much I can teach you in a span of a few weeks; all we have. I'll show you the essentials, but before that I need to see the village and its surrounding from a vantage point."

"What will you do, Professor Amal? We don't have a tower here."

Emeric grinned at him. "We don't need a tower."

Emeric extracted his want from inside his armor and turned to Jon. "Have you one of these?"

"I have my father's old wand, sir, but I can't use it well. I'm a hybrid mage, see, and my ma's a finite and I scarcely remember my da, who was a wizard."

Emeric extended a hand for Jon to give him his wand. Narrowing his eyes, he examined it closely. "One of Geraint Ollivander's, is this?"

"I know not, sir."

"Hm."

Emeric looked at it for a while. "Well, I am not so versed with wandlore so as to recognize what 'tis made of, and London is too far northeast of here, we can ill-afford to go to Master Ollivander now."

He gave it a complicated wave. With a sound similar to a parchment being torn, red thread starting coming out of thin air out of the wand's tip. Jon's mouth fell open in amazement as, in less than a minute, these stood a thick red carpet the size capable of bearing four men a foot above the air.

"I do not know," said Emeric," who made this wand, but it seems to work just fine." He distractedly fished inside his long, royal cloak before pulling a longer but much finer wand and handing it Jon along with his father's old wand.

Seeing Jon's expression, Emeric grinned again. "Close your mouth boy, you look stupid."

Jon shook his head and grinned too.

"Get on the carpet, we're going up," Emeric informed him.

"Up? Up as in, up in the air?"

"Aye."

Tentatively, Jon moved forward to assume a seat in the middle of the carpet. It was obvious to Emeric he was trying to look brave, but the perspiration beads on his forehead told a different story.

Emeric walked over to the carpet and stepped up onto it. Not even bothering to sit, he stood with booted feet almost over the edge of the carpet before giving his want a wave.

Jon yelped as the carpet suddenly zoomed upward at an alarming speed. Steering with his wand, Emeric moved the carpet in reverse to the back of the village. Fifty feet above the ground, Emeric and Jon stood, watching the village, the surrounding forests and the sea beyond.

"Woah…" said Jon, almost to himself. "This is amazing."

Emeric grinned his agreement, still looking ahead. "It is, innit? We'll make a wizard out of you yet."

They stood like this for some time, feeling the slightest breeze around them. Emeric turned to Jon.

"All right, I reckon I have a pretty good idea of what we can do for the village. Doing it now is the hard part."

Jon swallowed, as if steeling himself. He nodded.

Suddenly, Emeric leapt into the air and dove off the edge of the carpet. Jon fell backward, not managing to contain his scream. Hurriedly, he straightened himself, peering over the carpet's edge. He saw Emeric flip three times before landing slowly, sending up a white wave of something in a circle around him that vanished almost immediately. _Magic_… though Jon.

He felt the carpet move downward. He clutched its edge fearfully, almost wishing he was back at the well writing his notes. The carpet, however, descended gently, coming to a rest in front of Emeric.

"So what do you think?" said Emeric. Looking up at his grinning face, Jon was struck by how young Emeric actually was, with his long hair around his face and the slight goatee on his chin.

"I… think I'm going to need a moment," said Jon, breathing faster than he ever had in his sort, and rather quiet, life.

"Nonsense. Get up."

Emeric held out his hand. Gratefully, Jon took it and rose slowly to his feet. Behind him, the carpet disintegrated into nothing. Jon took a deep breath.

"So what now?" he said.

Emeric frowned, the joy of youth falling from his face like water from a pitcher. His deep purpose returned and his face suddenly seemed to grow a bit wrinkly to Jon's eyes.

"I intend to force the Spanish to break their formation right here. We have a disadvantage. They will expect the king to do exactly as he is going to. This village is their one gate into England. Still, they will not be expecting it to be defended, at least not by magi. The finites, they…" Emeric sighed. "…do not understand the way magic works. The Legion will enter through here and take over England." Emeric turned his head to look at Jon. "We must not let that happen, for if they enter, all hope is lost."

Jon inhaled deeply again, grim determination settling in. He nodded.

"We aim to scatter the Legion here," Emeric said. "Two magi and a few guards cannot possibly hope to drive them back. We have a lot to do, and not much time at all to do it. Come with me, we will begin your lessons now."

Emeric walked away and Jon, not knowing what was going to happen in the coming weeks, followed him. How could he know; how could anyone know that the European world was about to go through the biggest change it would ever experience? Events had been set in motion. Events that would lead to the destruction of order; destruction of the world as it was known. It had begun.

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><p><strong>AN: Read and review people. I'm using my someone else's computer right now as mine broke down. I will continue this story, though it depends on the reviews when. I have many improvements to make, help me with constructive criticism, please. As for flaming, as I said before I care not. Thanks for reading :D**

**Glossary (these terms will be used throughout the story, but not exclusively):**

**Mage: Wizard/Witch**

**Finite: Muggle**

**Hybrid: Half-Blood**

**Pure Mage: Pure-Blood**

**Full Mage: Pure-Blood**

**Archmage: A powerful wizard; the top level of wizarding ranks**

**Sorcerer: A mage who specializes in a certain branch of magic**


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